


Always Misses Something.

by exbex



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From the prompt: Sherlock barely noticed John's cold sore until Mycroft showed up with one as well.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Always Misses Something.

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: Sherlock barely noticed John's cold sore until Mycroft showed up with one as well.

The only reason it takes Sherlock as many as seventeen seconds to notice something peculiar about Mycroft is that it takes Sherlock fourteen seconds to look at Mycroft and pay any attention to whatever insufferably dull request he’s brought to 221b

Sherlock had barely noticed that John was suffering from herpes labialis because John was, in all ways but the important ones, the very definition of a “regular bloke”. A cold sore showing up on John’s bottom lip was about as remarkable, and even less interesting, than one of John’s many jumpers.

It takes nineteen seconds for it to race to the forefront of Sherlock’s mind. Mycroft is the furthest thing from a “regular bloke” that can be found in London, his clothing and posture completely incongruous to the small but suddenly glaring cold sore on his lower lip, one that would almost certainly mirror Sherlock’s flatmate.

John chooses that moment to enter the flat, and Sherlock bites back his exclamations to observe the two men. Surprisingly, it’s Mycroft who confirms Sherlock’s suspicions, as he allows his gaze to linger over John for just a moment too long. There’s something in his eyes, Sherlock would call it adoration, but that’s too much sentiment for a man like Mycroft. No, it’s…admiration, respect, desire, and something else. Yes, hope.

Memories, unbidden, stir up in Sherlock’s mind, all pictures of a version of Mycroft that he hasn’t seen in years, until today.

Sherlock always misses something. John isn’t the one he needs to worry about protecting.


End file.
